Through your infinite mercy, O God, may we be prevented from destroying your creation. With so many ongoing conflicts, Lord, it can sometimes be a challenge for many people to believe in your existence. Yet, in spite of centuries of violence and hatred, oppression and injustice, all spawned from humankind, it is a miracle indeed that the human race can still recover, and produce people who can, and do, overcome evil with good; hatred with love and greed with open-handedness. This, Father God, can only be possible by your outpouring of grace. Amen.

Creator God, you teem in every prison space and in every story; prisoner, victim, family and staff. Your light breaks through the cracks in our broken vessels and the diversity of multi-faith prison chaplaincy. You know the loss that separation brings, yet offer hope that healing is accessible to hurting people and people who cause hurt. Guide your Church toward being a model for institutions that act justly and do not impose harm. See us, Mother of Nature, and forgive our failing to love with the sort of balance Jesus practised. Let us happily carry our share of injustice so that our ministries may relate to the people we are called to serve. Amen.

What does the Lord require of us?
To love the Lord our God with all our heart, soul, mind, and strength and to love our neighbours as ourselves.
What is love? It looks like Jesus.
Lord, help us to be more patient and kind, remove jealousy, envy, anger and rage from us.
Let us not be boastful in ourselves and our possessions,
but to give away freely what we have freely received.
Love is not self-seeking, but looks after the needy, poor, lonely, and the widows and orphans.
Love looks to forgive those who have hurt us and doesn’t keep a record of wrongdoings. God is love and God’s love always protects, trusts, hopes, and perseveres.
God’s love never ends. Amen.

I’m looking at the sheep God. Are you really a shepherd?
I can’t see the shepherd. Is the shepherd really there?
The sheep seem to be happy, content.
They don’t seem to be lacking at all. But I can’t see the shepherd.
Some are lying down, but most are standing up, but they seem happy.
They are safe, they are fed, they are free from danger, but I can’t see the shepherd.
Even though I can’t see the shepherd, they must be there.
Feeding the sheep, caring for them, looking after them.
Does the shepherd spend much time with the sheep? I don’t know.
What about me God? Are you there? I can’t see you at the moment. Are you there?
I’m fed, I’m watered. I have plenty to eat, but are you there?
I can’t see you.
You must be there. If you weren’t there, what difference would it make?
Would I be fed? Would I be warm? Would I be safe? Probably not.
You are there, God. Just because I can’t see you doesn’t mean you are not there.
Thank you for being my shepherd.

Loving God, we rejoice in the signs of your presence in the world:
for every child who has a home, we praise and thank you God;
for every war that has an end, we praise and thank you God;
for every wound that has been healed, we praise and thank you God;
for every debt that is no more, we praise and thank you God.
And for the dawning of hope for all people, we pray:
where there is hunger and there is need, your kingdom come, O Lord;
where there are walls and barriers of hate, your kingdom come, O Lord;
where the poor pay the price, and the rich take the profit, your kingdom come, O Lord;
and where the earth lies wasted, and the skies are polluted, your kingdom come, O Lord.
Amen.

Lord, send us out.
Send us out from our buildings, full of history and comfort and meaning, and lead us into your world as your disciples where the story is still being written.
Send us out with our hearts full of love and concern and fear and hope, and lead us into your heart for this blessed and beautiful world where the story is still being written.
Continue to bless places for lonely people to gather; soup lunches and warm spaces; moves and renovations; missions and prayer gatherings; and all the ways we seek to move from where we are to where you want us to be.
Lord, send us out. And remind us – remind me – that the story is still being written. Amen.

Mary sings, “My soul magnifies the Lord”.
But how can I make God greater?
Lord of life, in the way I live, move and inhabit my being,
mirror in me your extravagant love and expansive goodness.
Enlarge my soul: to bear witness to human destruction, riven by unspeakable violence.
Enlarge my soul: to rail against relentless consumption, upending the gentle balance of the earth.
Enlarge my soul: to speak out against power-seeking policies, indifferent to hunger and dismissive of need.
May my spirit dance to the intricately woven melody of prayer, praise and protest.
Be ever greater within me, that my soul may magnify the Lord forever. Amen.

Teach us, Lord, to seek your face in those who think they are faceless; your word among those who are voiceless; and your transforming presence among those who feel powerless. Draw us to yourself that we may be active contemplatives in the heart of your world, discovering afresh the presence of Jesus wherever it is disguised and honouring you in the face of the neighbour, the lowly appearance of bread and wine, and the walk of daily service, that we might follow where you lead and respond with warmed hearts and active hands. Amen.

Inspired by Mother Teresa of Calcutta and Karl Rahner

Let us praise God,
who summons us to live as people of hope,
who lifts us when our hearts are weary,
and raises our eyes, restoring our vision,
to see a new heaven, a new earth,
which breaks in where we least expect it;
inviting us, beyond imagining,
to involvement in making real God’s purposes of justice, righteousness and peace.
Let us praise God,
who leads us beyond death, to life in all its fullness,
not for our sakes, but for the sake of others;
that by God’s Spirit we live with courage, compassion and commitment;
so we might be agents of change, sharing the gospel of truth and love,
as we join with God’s work in the world.

God of infinite wonder, whose love has no horizon and whose grace has no border, we open ourselves to your presence this day.
God of the minutiae, in whose company ‘insignificant’ has no meaning, we receive your blessings this day.
Raise our eyes from only that which is in front of us.
Lift our heads, that our vision may be broader and longer.
Sow seeds of passion in our hearts
and lay embers of hope in our lives
that we may never accept the concept of inevitable,
but instead cultivate communities of peace that live a language of possibility.